Stay Awhile
by intheinkpot
Summary: After Frankie has been holed up in her new apartment for days without anyone being able to reach her, Sam knows that Cat would want someone to check up on her. - That last reason alone was more than enough cause for a good right-hook in Sam's opinion. -


Sam was sick of Frankie. She wanted her out of her and Cat's lives for good. The only problem with confronting her was that she had no idea what Frankie looked like. It was odd, she thought, because Frankie had been lurking around the edges ever since she had first met Cat. She was the reason that Cat had been so flustered on their first date, for Cat's stress at work, and it had been her fault that Sam had been unable to have mind-blowing sex on more than one occasion.

That last reason alone was more than enough cause for a good right-hook in Sam's opinion.

She rubbed her eyes and stared blearily at the paperwork on her desk. She checked her watch: still two hours before she could go home.

"Fuck," she muttered.

Of course it was more than likely that Cat would be talking about Frankie again tonight. Apparently, the thorn in Sam's side had been holed up in her apartment for days. Tess hadn't been able to move out because the door to her and Frankie's apartment was always locked, and Frankie refused to answer.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her," Cat had said last night. "She's never done this before. She won't even pick up for me or Jay. I hope she's alright."

Sam massaged her temples. _No. You promised yourself you wouldn't do that._ But she knew it would make Cat feel better. Giving in, she searched Frankie's address, wrote it on a slip of paper and slid it in her pocket.

Two excruciating hours later, Sam stood in front of the door to Frankie's apartment. She knocked. No answer. She put her ear to the door, but there was no movement that she could hear.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she removed a paper clip from her pocket, unbent it and stuck it in the lock. A few twists and turns and then the door clicked open.

She stepped inside. "Hello?"

A crash from further inside the apartment. "Who the fuck—" Frankie rounded the corner, beer in hand, snarling. She stopped short. "Fucking hell, it's _you_. Piss off." She tipped back the beer.

"I came by to check on you," Sam said, sliding her hands into her pockets. "Cat wants to know if you're alright."

"What the fuck does Cat care?" Frankie said. Her speech was slurred slightly. "She's with you, isn't she?"

"Be that as it may, she was concerned. I agreed to stop by and check up on you."

"So you picked the fucking lock?" Frankie raised her eyebrows. "Isn't that fucking illegal? Aren't you a cop?"

Sam closed her eyes, counted to five and opened them. "Why haven't you answered anyone's calls?"

"None of your business."

"Tess wants to move out of our apartment. It is my business."

Frankie froze. "Our? _Our_? As in…your's and Cat's? You're living together?"

"Well, not officially, no."

Frankie seemed to relax. Sam's eyes darted to the table which had some crumbled papers laying on it. They looked like official documents.

"Have you been doing some research?"

Frankie scoffed.

Sam reached out and picked up a paper. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Aren't you Francesca?"

Frankie laughed. "I don't know. I thought I was."

Sam glanced up at her. She set the paper down. "Well, since you're clearly not dead, I think I'll leave now—" She turned toward the door. Frankie's hand wrapped around her arm.

"Wait," Frankie said. She sounded desperate. "Wait… Do you want a beer?"

Sam suppressed a sigh. For Cat, she told herself. "Sure. Why not?"

They sat in silence for half an hour, sipping their beers and not looking at each other. Finally, Frankie said, "So, how's Cat?"

"She's fine. She's stressed from work."

"When isn't she?" Frankie smiled, laughing. Her smile faded after a moment. "I miss her."

Sam said nothing.

"We were the best of friends when we were kids. And then…I don't know, somewhere along the line I fell for her. And I fucked it up." Frankie took a gulp of her beer. "I fucked it up, and I don't know how to fix it."

Sam steeled herself. "Maybe you should leave her alone for a while."

Frankie scoffed. "Of course you'd fucking say that."

"I mean it, Frankie. You aren't good for her. Not like this."

Frankie glared at the wall to her right. "You don't know anything about it."

"I know that she's always stressed out, and it's because of you. Why can't you just accept that she's moved on? Do both of you a favor."

"I can't." Frankie bit her lip. "She's all I have left. She's the only one who loved me aside from my aunt and well…she's dead. And who the fuck knows if she was even my aunt?"

Sam leaned forward, resting on her arms. "What's going on with you, Frankie?"

Sam didn't know if it was the beer or if Frankie was lonely or if she just always gave her life history out to complete strangers, but she listened in silence as Frankie told her everything from her aunt's voice message to the death certificate.

"I don't know what to do." Frankie hunched over her empty beer bottle. "Everything's all fucked up."

Sam sat back, thinking. "You haven't had any luck tracking down this woman your aunt sent your photos to?" Frankie shook her head. "Maybe I can find something."

Frankie's head shot up. "Really?"

"I can't promise anything. But I'll have a look."

"Thank you…" Frankie attempted to stand, but she fell over onto the table. Sam stood, picked Frankie up and took her to her bedroom despite her protests and weak thrashing. She dumped Frankie on the bed.

"Get some sleep. You look pathetic." Sam rolled her eyes at Frankie's half-hearted glare. "And for fucks sake, pick up the phone next time someone calls you, alright?"

But Frankie had already passed out.

Sam shook her head and left. It was another hour before she made it home and realized that she had been gone two and a half hours longer than Cat had been expecting. _Shit. It was only supposed to be a quick stop._ _No changing it now…_ Steeling herself, she opened the door.

Instantly Cat was at her side. "Thank god you're okay!" She looked Sam over worriedly. "I was afraid you'd been shot."

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I'm late." Sam cupped Cat's cheek, kissing her forehead.

"Why didn't you text me?"

"I made a stop after work. I was held up unexpectedly." She kissed Cat's forehead again. "I forget to tell you. I'm sorry."

Cat frowned. "What on earth could have been so important?"

Sam had a split second to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. She settled on the truth. "I went to check up Frankie. You were worried about her so I thought you'd want someone to make sure she was okay."

Cat's eyebrows rose. "She let you in."

Sam smiled. "Not exactly." At Cat's confused look, she added, "I may have some experience with picking locks."

Cat gasped and slapped her arm lightly. "You didn't. You broke into her apartment?" Sam smirked. "What did she say?"

"She wasn't happy, but she'll be back on her feet soon. I told her to pick up the phone." Sam stroked Cat's cheek, and Cat looked up at her questioningly. "I know she means a lot to you. I didn't want you to worry anymore."

Cat grasped Sam's hand. "Thank you." She stood on tip toes, kissed Sam softly and wrapped her arms around Sam's neck. "I love you."

Sam smiled. "I love you too." She felt Cat take her hand and allowed herself to be lead into the bedroom.


End file.
